


home?

by e_is_better_than_a (orphan_account)



Series: tumblr asks [33]
Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Brian is a Butt Head, Emotional Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Multi, Sad Roger Taylor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 01:40:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21689383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/e_is_better_than_a
Summary: anon ask: Poly!Queen with the starter: “You know what roger? Fuck you! You are just like your father after all.”
Relationships: John Deacon/Brian May/Freddie Mercury/Roger Taylor
Series: tumblr asks [33]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558126
Comments: 2
Kudos: 64





	home?

Brian woke up in a bad mood, messed up his coffee, almost snapped his A string and was currently holding back a snide remark about John’s new song. He and Freddie had written it together so it was more simple and more dance-like.

He hated it.

It was catchy but as soon as they described what they wanted it to sound like, that was it. Simple chords, no solos, extremely repetitive, and frankly, boring. As they continued to explain what they wanted, it made Brian’s blood boil. They were a rock and roll band for fuck’s sake, they should make  _ rock _ music, not disco.

“So?” Freddie asked. Roger was happy to let them do what they wanted and was a little excited at the chance to make something different. Don’t get him wrong, he was no fan of disco, but Fred and John liked it so he would give it a shot. The blond gave a small nod in approval. John looked a little relieved but turned to Brian with a blank face, ready to get into another fight.

“No.” Roger huffed.  _ Here they go. _

“Brian, if you say some shit about being a rock ‘n roll band-” John didn’t get to finish his threat because Brian was already on his feet.

“We are though and I don’t quite understand why we’re creating a record that none of our fans will like! We do rock with guitar solos and interesting drum beats, not whatever  _ that _ was! We force people to listen because it’s interesting and fun, and that won’t make people interested, it’ll just bore them!” He shouted, and John stood as well, getting level with him and giving him a glare that would crumple the average person. But Brian had seen it all before.

“Yes, please keep saying how  _ boring _ the song that we worked hard on-”

“I’m right and you know it!”

“Like your fucking guitar solos are any better! They’re just so you can show off how much better you are than the rest of us!”

And they kept going. Back and forth, over and over, going through the motions of their arguments. And Roger had had enough. They had an album to record, and this song was going to make it goddamn it because they didn’t really have anything else productive happening, did they?

“Children, can we please just sit down and-” Well, he was going to say  _ handle this like adults _ but he was cut off. By their arguing. Again. John shot him an apologetic look that Roger knew all too well. It was the look that meant that John was close to giving in to Brian and a fire sparked inside the drummer. It was a good song that people would like so it should be on the album. And it was an album by  _ Queen _ . Not  _ Brian May _ . It was all of them and they all had an equal say.

“Brian Harold May, let them put the song on the god damn album! You’re not the only person in this band and 75% of us think it should go on the album, so you’re outvoted. Sorry!” Roger said, stepping in between his lovers.

There was a flash of hurt across Brian’s face but then it was just pure rage. “You know what, Roger? Fuck you. You’re just like your father after all.” He growled.

All the air had suddenly disappeared and things had gone a little muffled. Or maybe it was just quiet. Either way, Roger felt like he was going to cry, scream, and run away all at the same time. But he couldn’t. He was stuck in place, the look on Brian’s face when he said those words, burned into his brain forever.

Someone tried to touch him but he flinched away. How had he become the very person he hated most? What changed? When? He knew he didn’t hit them, he knew that for sure, but had he really been that awful to them? Did they want to leave just as much as his mom did? And the worst one of all: did he scare them?

By some miracle, he made it out of the studio and down the street. It was late, past 9 pm, but going home felt wrong. Like tainting a beautiful picture with his mere presence. Like it had all been burned to ash. Because it wasn’t the building that was home, it was the three others that he shared it with. But apparently, he’s just like his dad.

-

Time passed, how much was unclear. Maybe an hour, maybe 4 hours. He wasn’t sure. But he was cold and really wanted to go back home. He wanted Freddie to coddle him and fret, wrapping him in their fuzzy blanket that was used in emergencies only. He wanted John to make him laugh while they talked about nothing. And he wanted Brian to hug him.

He got to the house eventually, feeling numb to everything but temperature. The front lights were on so the three of them were waiting up for him. They wouldn’t do that if they were scared, would they?

Just as he turned up the front walk, John flung the door open and ran to him, almost tackling him to the ground. The embrace was tight but Roger wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“I love you so much, Rog,” The younger man mumbled into his neck. They pulled back for one moment and Roger could see the puffiness of his eyes even in the dark. The blond didn’t know what to say. What if it was just all an act like his mom put up to keep any retaliation to a minimum?

Eventually, they parted and John led him into the house and Fred was waiting with the blanket in hand. He wrapped it around the drummer before speaking.

“You had us worried sick,” It was soft and full of feeling, and Roger could see the tear tracks on his cheeks.

“‘m sorry,” He whispered, voice hoarse from hours of not using it.

“It’s alright, dear, let me get you some tea.” Fred left, but not before placing a peck on his nose.

Next was Brian. He was stood in the hallway, looking sheepish and upset, eyes still watering with new tears. And Roger couldn’t leave his love like that.

They met somewhere in the middle. Brian wouldn’t let go and he sobbed into his shoulder and Roger squeezed him as hard as he could, trying to fend off his own tears before loosing and crying into his shoulder too. There was a silent apology that would be voiced tomorrow morning but was too abrupt to bring up now. So it stayed silent.

Freddie came back with John in tow, carrying four mugs of fresh tea. There was no tension between John and Brian, which was nice. They had all agreed to keep arguments contained to the studio but sometimes the tension followed them back. But now, they were completely fine and sat next to each other when they led him to the couch. Brian didn’t let go of him and Roger didn’t mind at all.

Just as the drummer was about to doze off, Brian murmured, “You’re not like him. Not by a long shot.”

And with those words, Roger was home.


End file.
